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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26722195">Tripping Over Your History</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/clotpolesonly/pseuds/clotpolesonly'>clotpolesonly</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Forced Proximity, Future Fic, Gen, Good Theo Raeken, Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Hurt/Comfort, Possibly Pre-Slash, Post-Canon, Redeemed Theo Raeken, Stiles Stilinski Being an Asshole, Trapped In A Closet, he comes around though</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 09:34:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,409</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26722195</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/clotpolesonly/pseuds/clotpolesonly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles waited until he was reasonably certain the threat was out of range before he pushed Theo out of his personal space. Or, well, as far out of his personal space as he could manage, which wasn’t very far before Theo hit the shelves behind him.</p><p>“What the fuck are <i>you</i> doing here?”</p><p>Theo gave him a dirty look, rubbing at the back of his head. “The same thing you’re doing: trying to keep the manticore in the school until Scott can kill it, so it doesn’t go rampaging through the town.”</p><p>“Oh yeah, I’m sure hiding in a closet is helping <i>oodles.</i>”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Theo Raeken &amp; Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>101</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Tripping Over Your History</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>my one contribution to Steo Week!! i was fully intending, at the start, for it to be more explicitly <i>Steo</i> but there just wasn't room for the enemies-to-lovers they truly deserve, so here we get the <i>start</i> of the process XD</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles had not expected to do so much running today. If he had, he would’ve worn better shoes.</p><p>His soles slipped as he rounded the next corner and nearly sent him sprawling, which would’ve been <em> very bad </em>considering the manticore quickly closing in behind him. He had already taken a blow to the stomach from that freaky fucking scorpion tail—luckily, it had just been the broad side of it, rather than the actual stinger part—and he was pretty sure that if he went down now, he was not getting back up.</p><p>He cleared another corner, his shoulder scraping along the lockers with how tightly he took it, and what was with all these monsters being drawn to the high school? Stiles didn’t even <em> go </em> to this godforsaken hellmouth of a school anymore, for fuck’s sake, and here he was, still fighting monsters in it at least twice a year.</p><p>The manticore <em> roared </em>loud enough to make the locker doors rattle.</p><p>Stiles cursed and ran faster. The clatter of the manticore’s clawed feet against the tile floor was getting closer. His lungs were fucking burning in his chest and, oh god, he was gonna get eaten by a monster before Scott and the others could get here with the fancy magic dagger that was supposed to be able to kill the damn thing.</p><p>He didn’t know <em> what </em> had happened to Hayden and Kira, but he hadn’t heard from them since they’d split off to search the gym and the locker room. He really hoped they hadn’t already been eaten; Liam and Scott would be <em> so mad </em> if their girlfriends had been eaten by a manticore.</p><p>Scott had <em> told </em> them not to split up, damn it, why had they not listened? Had the plot of every horror movie on the planet temporarily evaporated from Stiles’ brain just in time for them to make that decision? One of them, at least, should’ve known better, but apparently they hadn’t, and now they were all gonna get—</p><p>A hand clamped down on Stiles’ arm. With how fast Stiles was going, it damn near yanked his shoulder out of its socket. But a second later, Stiles found himself in the small, dark confines of a supply closet with a warm body pressed up against his and the aforementioned hand over his mouth.</p><p>“Stay quiet,” an unfortunately familiar voice hissed in his ear.</p><p>Stiles shoved the hand off. “Theo, what the fuck are you—”</p><p>The hand returned, much to Stiles’ indignation. Before he could knee Theo in the nuts, though, another roar sounded in the hallway. The door shook at Stiles’ back, groaning and shifting in its frame, and he decided that maybe, just this once, obeying a command from Theo wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world.</p><p>The two of them held their breath, straining their ears for the <em> click-click </em> of the manticore’s claws. It drew up alongside their hiding place and paused. Frantically, Stiles ran through all the lore that he had crammed into his brain in the last three days, but he didn’t remember anything about how good the manticore’s senses were.</p><p>Apparently, they were in luck. The thing growled and then moved off down the hall.</p><p>Stiles waited until he was reasonably certain the threat was out of range before he pushed Theo out of his personal space. Or, well, as far out of his personal space as he could manage, which wasn’t very far before Theo hit the shelves behind him.</p><p>“What the fuck are <em> you </em> doing here?”</p><p>Theo gave him a dirty look, rubbing at the back of his head. “The same thing you’re doing: trying to keep the manticore <em> in </em> the school until Scott can kill it, so it doesn’t go rampaging through the town.”</p><p>“Oh yeah, I’m sure hiding in a closet is helping <em> oodles.</em>”</p><p>“Hey, I just saved your fucking life,” Theo said. “You could be grateful.”</p><p>Stiles ignored that. “When did you <em> get </em> here? Kira, Hayden, and I all came together. You weren’t even <em> at </em> the planning session where the whole keep-it-contained-in-the-high-school thing was decided on!”</p><p>“Scott texted me,” Theo said, like that was supposed to be obvious. And, okay, maybe it should’ve been. “He figured you might need help. Clearly, he was right.”</p><p>Stiles scowled at him, twice as hard because he couldn’t dispute the point. “Thanks ever so much,” he bit out, as insincerely as he could possibly manage. “Now that <em> that’s </em>over with…“</p><p>The door wouldn’t open. The handle turned just fine, but the door itself would not budge, not even when Stiles leaned his entire weight against it. The vibrations from the manticore’s roar must have knocked it off its hinges or something, set it at an angle, and gotten it very firmly wedged into the frame. He tried ramming it with his shoulder next, but that quickly revealed itself to be a terrible idea because the impact jarred his bruised ribs in a way that made everything up to his fucking <em> teeth </em> feel like it was on fire.</p><p>Theo pulled him back out of the way. Stiles was dazed enough to let it happen, sinking down the one bare wall to collapse on the cold concrete floor. Panting through the pain, he watched Theo run the same gamut. Stupid door didn’t open for him either.</p><p>Finally, Stiles said, “Can’t you just…you know, <em> break </em> the damn thing?”</p><p>Instead of answering, Theo threw his weight at the door again. It creaked in protest, but stayed firmly wedged in place. He did it again with the same result. He was breathing hard now too, fists clenched. When another hit couldn’t manage it, he growled.</p><p>This was getting really fucking boring. “Dude, just break it the fuck down!”</p><p>“<em>I can’t!</em>”</p><p>Theo slammed his fist into the door. It didn’t even leave a dent.</p><p>Stiles stared at him. “What do you mean, you <em> can’t? </em> Liam can lift a freaking pick-up truck with one hand and you can’t break down a closet door?”</p><p>“He’s a werewolf,” Theo snapped.</p><p>“The fuck does that have to do with it?” Stiles asked. “I’ve seen you fight before, Theo. I know you’re not <em> as </em> strong as normal werewolves, but since when can you not even—”</p><p>“I don’t <em> know, </em> okay?” Theo punched the door again, pulling his hand back and shaking it out with a grimace. “A year ago, I could’ve punched my way through the goddamn <em> wall, </em> no problem. But now I— I don’t know. I just can’t anymore.”</p><p>Stiles stared some more. “Fat lot of good <em> you </em> do me as backup, then.”</p><p>Theo snarled at him. His eyes glowed gold, but they were dimmer than Stiles was used to seeing, and then flickered out after only a second or two. “Good enough to save your ass.”</p><p>“But not good enough to get us out of a fucking janitor’s closet.”</p><p>“I don’t see <em> you </em> managing it,” Theo pointed out.</p><p>“I wouldn’t even be in here if it weren’t for you!”</p><p>“No, you’d be <em> dead. </em> You’re welcome.”</p><p>Stiles tried to stand, fully intending on punching Theo in his smug face—by his judgment, it’d been far too long since the last time he’d done that—but his ribs gave an almighty throb. The spike of pain made his lungs freeze up, a strangled noise of pain escaping him, and he swayed dangerously on the spot.</p><p>“Will you sit down before you fall down?” Theo said. “If you pass out, I’m not carrying you out of here.”</p><p>“As if you <em> could,</em>” was all Stiles could manage.</p><p>Fuck, maybe his ribs were actually broken. Or maybe genuinely bruised ribs were just way more painful than Stiles would’ve expected them to be. The more the adrenaline of the chase wore off, the worse it got, every ache and pain leaping up to make itself known as aggressively as possible. Deep breathing was proving difficult. He may have rolled his right ankle at some point too.</p><p>An upturned bucket scraped loudly across the concrete floor. Theo dropped down onto it, apparently settling in for a long wait.</p><p>“Text Kira,” he suggested. “Let her know we’re stuck in here.”</p><p>Stiles shook his head. “My phone had an unfortunate meeting with a scorpion stinger. What about yours?”</p><p>“Dead.”</p><p>“Goodie.” Carefully, Stiles uncurled from his rib-coddling hunch to lean back against the wall. It was cold, but that felt pretty good. “Maybe if we yell real loud, Hayden will hear and come let us out.”</p><p>“Or the manticore will hear,” Theo said dryly, “and come eat us alive.”</p><p>“Well, I don’t see <em> you </em> coming up with any bright ideas.”</p><p>Theo sighed. “My bright idea is that we wait for Scott and the others to get here. You know they’ll come looking for us eventually if we don’t show up.”</p><p>If they weren’t all killed first, Stiles didn’t say out loud. They didn’t even know for sure that Kira and Hayden were still alive. They were two seriously badass ladies, so Stiles had a reasonable amount of hope that they could hold their own, but his anxious brain was already imagining the entire pack torn apart, bodies strewn around the school, and him and Theo stuck in this fucking closet until the students turned up on Monday morning to find the carnage.</p><p>That was neither a fun nor a productive thought. Unfortunately, the only available distraction was Theo, who Stiles usually tried <em> not </em> to think about, for a wide variety of reasons. In the low light, there wasn’t much to look at, but Stiles could still see the dim outline of him. Theo’s head was tipped back against the wall, his eyes closed. He looked tired.</p><p>“Why would Scott send you in as backup if you can’t even fight anymore?”</p><p>Theo didn’t bother opening his eyes to throw back, “Why would Scott send <em> you </em>in at all if you never could to start with?”</p><p>“Oh, fuck you, man,” Stiles said. “I’ve been holding my own against all kinds of monsters—you included, by the way—for six years. I’m not dead yet, am I?”</p><p>Theo let out a quiet snort, but otherwise didn’t respond to that. A few seconds of silence passed, during which Stiles strained his ears for any roaring or fighting from outside that might indicate the state of things.</p><p>Eventually, Theo sighed again. “Scott might not <em> know, </em> exactly,” he said haltingly. “About…”</p><p>He made a vague, hand-wavey gesture.</p><p>“That you’re, what, losing your power?”</p><p>He let his hand fall. “Something like that.”</p><p>Stiles chewed on his tongue, questions piling up in his head, until a thought struck him. Then he started to laugh.</p><p>“Oh man,” he said, clutching his aching ribs. “This is just <em> too good.</em>”</p><p>Theo looked like he wasn’t quite sure if he should be offended. “What is?”</p><p>“The <em> irony, </em> man. You went to such incredible lengths to gain more power for yourself, and now—” Stiles fought back another chuckle. “—you’re losing what little power you already <em> had. </em> That’s fucking hilarious. Talk about karma.”</p><p>Even in the dark, Stiles could see the way Theo’s face closed off, how his shoulders hunched. It was <em> almost </em>enough to make him feel bad. With anyone else, it would’ve been plenty. But Theo wasn’t anyone else, and there was a sick little thrill in watching him curl in on himself that Stiles couldn’t deny.</p><p>“God,” he said wistfully. “Why couldn’t this have happened senior year? Would’ve been way more convenient for you to go to pieces then, you know, before you—”</p><p>Theo’s growl interrupted him. “For fuck’s sake, Stiles. Even <em> Malia </em>doesn’t hold senior year against me anymore. Are you ever gonna stop?”</p><p>All of Stiles’ amusement dried up in an instant, replaced with a spike of anger that was almost comforting in its familiarity. “You literally <em> killed Scott.</em>”</p><p>“Yes,” Theo said. “I did. I killed Scott, I hurt your dad and Lydia, I almost destroyed the pack.” He scrubbed a hand down his face, huffing out something that might’ve been a laugh if it hadn’t sounded so pathetic. “I did a lot of awful things back then, Stiles. But I’ve spent four years working my <em> ass </em>off to make up for all of it. It’s enough for them! When is it gonna be enough for you?”</p><p>Stiles almost spat back <em> “never”. </em> It was on the tip of his tongue, dangling there along with every other caustic, unforgiving thing he’d ever wanted to throw at Theo. All the darkness and frustration boiling up in his chest, he wanted to vent it in Theo’s direction and watch him drown under it.</p><p>But the word wouldn’t come out. The sick thrill curdled in his stomach, turning heavy and cold, and he <em> hated </em> that Theo was right. That Scott had forgiven him a long time ago. That Lydia had a text thread with him where they shared science memes. That Malia didn’t bat an eyelid when he showed up to pack meetings, despite not technically <em> being </em> pack, or question that he would have her back in a fight. That Stiles was the only one in the pack that couldn’t let go of his misdeeds.</p><p>What Theo had done in the years since, it <em> was </em> enough for them. As galling as it was, the rational part of Stiles’ brain had to acknowledge that maybe they were right. The rest of him, though—</p><p>“Seriously, Stiles,” Theo pushed. “What would be enough? What would I have to do to convince you that I—”</p><p>“Maybe I don’t want you to do anything!”</p><p>Theo, of all things, laughed. “No,” he said. “Of course, you don’t. Because you don’t <em> care </em> if I’m good or evil anymore. All you care about is having someone to blame for it all that isn’t <em> yourself.</em>”</p><p>Denial rose up in him on a tide of fury, clogging his throat like bile, but he didn’t have time to unleash it.</p><p>Before he could, the ground beneath their feet trembled. The boxes and bottles and tubs all around them rattled with the force of the roar, some of them rattling their way right off their shelves. A half-empty bottle of bleach caught Stiles’ shoulder on its way to the ground, sending a shockwave of pain through him. By the time he blinked the tears out of his eyes, the vibrations had faded.</p><p>They held their breath anyway, listening, like last time, for the sound of giant claws approaching. Stiles thought he heard the faint sounds of fighting in the distance, which gave him hope for Kira and Hayden. The fact that the manticore was still <em> here </em> did, too, in its own way; if it wasn’t still playing cat-and-mouse games with <em> something, </em> it would’ve left the school by now to find prey elsewhere.</p><p>Unless it came back for the two that got away.</p><p>Theo had stood up at some point and, Stiles noticed, placed himself between Stiles and the door. His claws were out, apparently ready to go down fighting as best he could, and the weak gold light of his eyes reflected back at them in the chipped paint.</p><p>It was quiet for a long time, both of them wound so tight that Stiles felt he might crack under it. Finally, it was too much. His shoulder was newly throbbing, his ribs aching from the pressure of holding his breath, and the mere act of trying to shift positions forced a groan out of him.</p><p>Theo turned back, eyes flickering out. For a moment, he just watched, his face an impassive mask. Then, as quietly as possible, he nudged his upturned bucket closer and sat back down. His hand found Stiles’ forearm.</p><p>A wave of lightheadedness swept through Stiles, the sudden absence of pain making him feel dizzy and weirdly weightless. He would’ve liked to blame that feeling for how long it took him to process that Theo’s veins were blackened, his face a grimace as he siphoned Stiles’ pain into himself instead, but it was just simple surprise.</p><p>He had known, theoretically, that Theo was capable of taking pain. He’d heard the story from Mason, about Theo and Gabe during the raid at the hospital, and mentions of it here and there in the years since. But he hadn’t really <em> believed</em>—hadn’t <em> let </em> himself believe—that Theo had the empathy necessary to do what he was doing right now.</p><p>“What are you doing?” His voice came out hoarse and painfully uncertain.</p><p>Theo’s eyes flicked up to meet his, just for a second, before returning to their point of connection. “I thought that would be obvious.”</p><p>“No shit, dumbass,” Stiles huffed. “I just meant… <em> Why?</em>”</p><p>Theo glanced up at him again, and this time he didn’t look away. Neither of them needed to speak for Theo to hear everything Stiles wasn’t saying, all the other questions behind it. His hand was warm, Stiles’ skin tingling with whatever weird magic allowed Theo to do this, and the strange intimacy of it made Stiles’ heart beat faster the longer Theo didn’t answer him.</p><p>“Because, Stiles,” Theo finally murmured. “You may not <em> believe </em> that I’m a better person, but I’m not going to let that stop me from <em> being </em> a better person.”</p><p>His hand slipped away, leaving Stiles cold and reeling. The pain didn’t return, though Stiles knew that it would creep back in before too long. For the moment,  there was nothing to distract him from the conflicting jumble in his head. He found himself staring sidelong at Theo—examining the sharp lines of his face in the dimness, the swell of his bottom lip, the way his fingers twisted around each other in his lap—searching for the evil he’d been so sure for so long was there.</p><p>It should’ve been surprising that he didn’t find anything. But his arm was still tingling and, in a weird way, it was almost a relief to accept it. A few minutes passed in silence, nothing but the sound of their breathing between them, each caught up in their own thoughts.</p><p>Stiles broke it with, “Why haven’t you asked Scott for the bite?”</p><p>Theo shifted beside him. “What?”</p><p>“The bite,” Stiles said again. “If your powers are failing, we have to assume that it’s probably because they’re manufactured rather than naturally occurring. They might not have been <em> designed </em> to last long-term.”</p><p>Theo’s jaw clenched, as it usually did at the reminder of his nature. “So?”</p><p>“So getting the bite turned Hayden from chimera to full werewolf,” Stiles said. “It would probably do the same for you.”</p><p>“Or it could kill me.”</p><p>“With what happened to the rest of the chimeras in the end, you might be headed that way regardless,” Stiles pointed out.</p><p>Theo looked away without responding, though his hands curled into white-knuckled fists. Stiles silently kicked himself, because, for once, he actually <em> wasn’t </em> trying to be a dick about this or rub it in Theo’s face that he wasn’t a “real” werewolf.</p><p>“I’m just saying,” he went on hastily. “Getting the bite might be a risk, but it’s got better odds than just waiting to see what happens when what happens <em> might </em> be you bleeding mercury. And I think you know that. So why haven’t you asked Scott?”</p><p>At first, it seemed like Theo wasn’t going to answer him. Then, Theo turned back to Stiles with a tight, unhappy smile on his face, and said, “Because getting the bite would make me pack. And Scott would never do that without unanimous consent from all the existing pack members.”</p><p>Without <em> his </em> consent, Theo meant. Theo hadn’t even bothered to <em> ask </em> for something that might save his life because he thought that Stiles wouldn’t agree to it. If Theo had asked yesterday, Stiles realized with a hot flush of shame, he probably wouldn’t have.</p><p>Now, he swallowed the feeling down, and said, “Ask him.”</p><p>Theo’s eyes widened, bitter expression falling away into something far more open than Stiles was used to seeing on him. His next smile was small, but it was genuine.</p><p>A crash and a hail of debris broke the moment. Coughing—painfully—through the dust, Stiles squinted against the light until he could make out Scott in the now-open doorway.</p><p>“Hey,” he said, far too brightly for the circumstances. “We took care of the manticore! How long have you guys been stuck in here? Wasn’t <em> too </em>long, was it?”</p><p>Stiles and Theo traded a look and, somehow, found themselves laughing.</p><p>“No,” Stiles said. “No, I think maybe it was just long enough.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://clotpolesonly.tumblr.com/post/630638274761867264/tripping-over-your-history">rebloggable on tumblr!</a>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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